


Roman Holiday

by Lisztful



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 12:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/pseuds/Lisztful
Summary: In which Alec convinces Ellie to pretend to be his girlfriend for a destination wedding in Italy, and it goes about as well as one might expect (which is to say very, very, poorly indeed).





	Roman Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a large handful of my favorite tropes and settings, all mixed up together. Unbeta'd, alas.

Ellie goes into the arrangement with extreme suspicion, not least because of the way Hardy brings it up. 

She’s on her way out of the building at the end of a very long work week, and Hardy swoops down upon her on the stairs, affecting something that she thinks is supposed to be nonchalance and instead looks like maybe Hardy has just been poisoned. 

“Thought we might go have that drink after all,” He says, in a tone that, again, Ellie thinks is supposed to be casual. Hardy is tapping the banister nervously, and she resists the urge to cover his hand with her own, to still it and the rest of the frenetic energy coursing through him. She feels for a moment as though he would shock her, all anxiety and pent up whatever this is. 

She shakes her head, forcibly clearing the image, and makes the appropriate shocked but pleased expression. “What’s brought this on?”

“Oh, you know.” Hardy shrugs, which is not a natural gesture for his body to make. “Just fancied a drink.”

Well, Ellie feels very confident that Hardy did not, in fact, _just fancy a drink_, but she also can’t resist finding out what is actually going on. “Can’t say no to that,” she replies, and they walk to the pub together, chatting about nothing.

Inside, Ellie makes for the bar, but Hardy steers them to a booth in the corner, looking a little hunted. Ellie leaves him there and orders a pint for herself, a glass of red for Hardy. It’s happy hour on a friday, so the bar is bustling, warm with the press of bodies and the low hum of conversation all around. Oddly, this makes her feel more safe, more alone with Hardy than the exposure of actually being alone. The tapestry of sound and movement isn’t close or loud enough to be distracting, and cushions them in their little corner. 

Hardy takes a sip of his drink. “I was going to get these,” he says reproachfully, then, “Oh good lord that’s bad. Who would drink that?”

“You,” Ellie says, brooking no protest. Hardy makes a face at her, but does indeed take another drink. Ellie watches him for a minute, quietly nursing her pint while Hardy nervously gulps his wine. Finally she breaks the silence. “Well, tell me what you want, why don’t you?”

Hardy chokes on his wine, and spends a few moments coughing. Ellie waits, because when you’ve got a teenage son, such cheap distraction techniques are not at all effective. “I know you didn’t come here to be nice to me,” she adds, a little meanly. “So obviously you want something, and you know I won’t want to do it, and so you’re trying to warm me up.”

“Well,” Hardy prevaricates, and waves a hand. “Hang on, am I not nice to you? I made you tea today.”  
“Bloody hell,” Ellie groans, and puts her head in her hands. “Yes, you’re the absolute soul of kindness. Now tell me what you bloody want.”

Hardy sighs, that sound he’s so good at that means _I’m all alone in the world and nobody could ever possibly understand me._ “I need,” he starts, looking uncomfortably at his hands. “All right, fine. I need a favor. I need you to go undercover with me. It’s nothing to do with a case,” he says, cutting off Ellie’s inevitable tirade before she can quite get started. “Nothing _official_. You don’t have to worry about getting in trouble with work.”

“Uh _huh_,” Ellie says slowly. “So what’s this about, then, and why do I get the impression that it’s a terrible idea?”

“Er, well,” Hardy says uncomfortably. “It’s, well.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. “Well, I need you to go undercover with me to a wedding.” 

“_What_?” Ellie shouts, and nearly spills her beer over her hand. She rescues it just in time, which is a relief because if there is any one thing Ellie needs now, it is to be drinking. She does so, like it’s a lifeline. “You want me to go undercover to a wedding? Why? Is it Tess? Are you stalking her? She’s allowed to meet new people, you know. You’re not allowed to stop her.” 

“What, no!” Hardy explains and now he’s shouting too. “Bloody Hell, Miller, do you really think I would do that?” That seems to sap that fight from him, and Hardy slumps down again, slurping miserably at his wine. “No, it’s my wee niece’s wedding, and I just--” He looks up at her, and his eyes are ridiculously wide and helpless. “I may have,” he starts, and coughs. “I may have, er, told my family that I’m seeing someone.”

“Uh _huh_,” Ellie repeats, bemusedly. “Yeah, not doing that. Definitely not doing that, at all, ever.” She most certainly is not thinking about how she might hold Hardy’s hand, or how she would tell everyone what a _gift_ Hardy is, or how she might smooth his windblown hair, quiet the nervous tremor in his leg, snug him closer by the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted shirt. No, she’s absolutely not thinking about any of that. 

“Did I mention it’s a destination wedding,” Hardy asks innocently. “In Italy? It’d just be a long weekend, there on Friday and back on Sunday night.”

“Oh, you are wicked,” Ellie says, and it’s true. She can’t help feeling a little bit tempted. “Next round’s on you, you crazy bugger, and no more talk about this.” 

Hardy doesn’t look pleased about it, but he lets it drop, and they pass another hour pleasantly enough, talking about anything except weddings in Italy.

**

So that’s fine. Hardy will push and push unbearably when it’s to do with work, but he’s hyper sensitive about opening up his personal life to anyone, so Ellie thinks it’s not a great trial for him to pretend the conversation never happened. Unfortunately, she can’t stop thinking about it.

At first it’s bemusement, incredulity at the absolute ridiculous nerve of him. Only Hardy could think that this is a more painless solution than just telling his family the truth. It’s bloody-minded and hare-brained and absolutely destined to fail. Or it would be, if they did it, which Ellie is absolutely, definitely, most certainly not considering.

But there’s a part of the whole thing that weighs on Ellie. She keeps coming back to it, worrying at it, the detective part of her brain refusing to let it rest. She can’t stop thinking about how hard it must have been for Alec to ask for that. Alec, who would rather sleep in his car than impugn her honor, who’s still really bloody mean to Brian, just because he didn’t want to have coffee after all. Alec, who couldn’t even bear to tell Ellie when he was taking her to meet his ex-wife. What must it have cost him to ask for help with something so personal? Why does it mean so much to him that he’d create this farce? She thinks about this, unsatisfyingly, for days. Then, she gives in and takes it to Beth.

It’s taken years for their friendship to really recover, but Ellie has found that, little by little, their shared trauma has made it weirdly easy to lean on one another. She adores Beth, too. She’s laugh out loud funny, stubborn, brave. She’s just the right amount of coarse, and she’d be happy to punch someone in the nose if they wronged a person she cared about. Plus, it’s nice to have a friendship that is easy, not prickly, not full of unspoken things and half taken up with shouting. Ellie misses Hardy when she’s not around him, sometimes even after less than a day apart. She’s had to accept that she will always reach for him, when she needs someone who absolutely, completely will understand her, but also just for the daily tragedy and comedy of their work. He understands her on a level that she thinks nobody else can, though she’s not sure she understands him at all. It’s piercing, vital. 

Her friendship with Beth is something different, and in its own way, Ellie loves it too. She loves tea at the kitchen table, going out to see a film with too much buttery popcorn and gigantic drinks. It’s a different kind of love, and that’s a sentiment that Ellie doesn’t care to speculate on for too long. But, she’s thankful for Beth, and that’s undeniable. 

“Well,” Beth says, after Ellie has explained the whole story, awkward pub night and all. “It’s probably the most complicated way I can think of to try and get someone to shag you.”

“That’s just it,” Ellie says. “He isn’t asking me to shag him. In fact I think his head might explode before he ever said anything like that. Besides, you saw that woman he dated for a few weeks, there. She was all posh and, _you know._” She gestures at herself. “Not...lumpy?”

“Oh, bollocks.” Beth says. “ That’s just body-shaming and I won’t stand for it. Besides, I think Hardy would for sure shag you if he had half the chance. He’s just too afraid to ever ask for it.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Ellie says. But it lights something up in the pit of her stomach, the idea that Hardy could want her.

“Anyway,” Beth says, in that long, drawn-out tone that means, _I noticed that reaction but I’ve become a very good counselor and so will let you get away with it for the time being_. “What are you going to do?”

Ellie stares down at her gin and tonic, which is erring heavily on the side of gin. “I already told him no. It’s ridiculous. I don’t want to go around lying about being Hardy’s little cheeky girlfriend.”

“Nor should you have to,” Beth agrees, “But--.” She hesitates, glances at Ellie and then away again. “Might be fun? Might be a little freeing, getting to pretend to be someone else and see where that takes you. When was the last time you got to go somewhere and people didn’t know your whole life story?”

“Oh god, I can barely imagine what that would be like,” Ellie says, but all of a sudden she can. It’s as though the weight of everything: her job, her marriage, every mistake she has ever made and every tragedy that has ever been placed upon her shoulders, is released. “Oh, no,” she says, wide-eyed. “Oh no, I think you’re actually making me want to do this.”

Beth grins, bright and just a little smug. “Ah go on, live a little. If nothing else, it’s a free Italian vacation. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“Bloody hell,” Ellie says, but she’s grinning a little, too. “Honestly, it does. You won’t think less of me, though, if I do it? You won’t think I’m a horrible person?”

Beth scoffs. “Oh no. I might think less of you if you don’t finish your gin, though. I’m two glasses ahead of you already, so drink up.” 

Ellie is all too happy to oblige.

**  
The next day at work, Ellie stops by Hardy’s office at lunchtime. Hardy glances up, registers that it’s her, and shoots her a smile, sudden and open and delighted. He shutters his expression quickly, but Ellie can’t help but be pleased by it, that initial reaction. 

“So,” she starts, then glances behind her and steps into the office, shutting the door. “So, I’ve been thinking about what you asked me at the pub.”

Hardy’s expression rapidly transforms into something closer to panic. “I was way out of line,” he says. “Let’s just forget I mentioned it, aye?”

“The thing is,” Ellie says, ignoring him. “The thing is, I haven’t been on a vacation in ages. My dad owes me some babysitting for generally being a git, and we haven’t got anything pressing going on here.”

“What are you saying?” Hardy asks, his tone flitting between disbelief and, perhaps, a little bit of hopefulness. He’s very carefully not looking at her, and his hands are white-knuckled on a handful of papers, crumpling them terribly.

“Well,” Ellie says carefully. “I suppose I’m saying that if you’re still up for it, I could try a bit of acting. We’d have to have some rules, of course,” she starts, but Hardy is already saying, “We’d need to set some ground rules.”

“Right,” Ellie says, and shakes her head a little, laughing. “So, agreed about that, then.”

“I’ll be respectful,” Hardy says, quickly. “I won’t ask anything of you you’re not comfortable with.”

“What, do we need a safe word?” Ellie shoots off, then promptly wishes she could walk it back. Alec is wide eyed, and Ellie wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to flee out a window right now. “Never mind, just having a laugh,” she says hastily. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

“Right,” Hardy says, and takes a shallow breath. “So, how would this work, then?”

Ellie makes herself comfortable on the couch, tucking her feet up under her thighs. “This was _your_ idea,” she points out. “But I suppose we’d just, you know.” She considers for a moment. “Come up with how we met, some cute story. Try not to bite each other’s heads off for a few days, drink some nice Italian wine. Can we see some ruins? Oh, I do like ruins. We could tell people it was a little date. We could bring parma ham!”

Alec rolls his eyes, but he seems on firmer ground now, laughing with her at the absurdity of it, instead of choking on panic. “We met at work,” he says. “Obviously.”

“And?” Ellie says. “What was our first date? Was it love at first sight? Did I charm you with my wit? I’m telling everyone I charmed you with my wit, try and stop me.”

“Christ, tell them you charmed me with that stupid orange parka, I don’t care,” Hardy says, and puts his hands over his eyes. “We don’t need a bloody life story, it’s just one wedding.”

“All right,” Ellie says, placatingly. “But when this blows up in your face I am absolutely going to point and laugh at you.” She stretches out on the couch, feeling suddenly very pleased. “Do you know, I do think this will be fun.”

Alec frowns at her, disapproving. “Just keep it simple. Nothing too outlandish. And don’t you dare tell anyone that I was in hospital. I’ll never be able to look my sisters in the eye again.” 

“Ah, sisters,” Ellie says, understandingly. “How many?”

“Three,” Alec says, sounding haunted. “All older. “Each one more wretched than the last. He purses his lips distastefully. Always _picking_ at me.” 

“Oh,” Ellie coos, unaccountably charmed. “You’re their wee little brother. Of course they’re like that.” She sits up, considering. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet them; I bet they’ve got loads of stories about you.”

“I no longer support this idea,” Alec says, sounding flustered. “There will be no telling of stories.”

“Whatever you say,” Ellie replies breezily, and escapes Hardy’s office before he can say anything more. It’s still probably an extremely terrible idea, but Ellie finds that she’s rather looking forward to it.

That weekend, Ellie takes Beth shopping with her for Italy-approved clothes. Hardy hadn’t said anything about it, but Ellie thinks he expects her to just show up as her, just hiking boots and sensible pantsuits and bright parka and the like. She thinks that would be fine by him, that it wouldn’t even occur to him to want something different, something more from her. But, weirdly that lights up the contrary part of her brain, which if she’s being honest is probably all of her brain. She wants to play, wants to exist as someone effortlessly posh, at least for a long weekend. She wants to feel mysterious and attractive against some ludicrously beautiful Tuscan sunset. It doesn’t seem like it would be so much to ask that someone would find her ludicrously beautiful in return, not that she’s hoping for anything in particular. It’s another country, so distant from her own life that it might as well be another world.

Beth perches on a stool in the dressing room, watching Ellie try on dress after stupid dress.

“I think Chlo’ and Daisy are _seeing_ each other,” she says significantly, leaning in toward Ellie. Ellie trips on the hem of a particularly wiggly dress. 

“_Really?_ What about Dean? Is Chloe,” she flaps her hand. “Interested in girls, then?”

Beth rolls her eyes, as though Ellie is being particularly slow. “They prefer the term ‘queer.’ Chlo’ tells me she hasn’t settled on her identity yet, but she quite fancies Daisy, and now Daisy’s invited her on holiday. Chlo’s over the moon.”

“That’s very sweet,” Ellie says, honestly. It is. It’s nice to think about Chloe discovering something new, something that is just about her, and not about the wreckage of her tragic past. Chloe has had to bear a life that is well beyond her years, and there is something just beautifully _teenage_ about this sort of discovery.

“I know,” Beth says, leaning in conspiratorially. “She’s moonin’ about the house all dramatic-like. I think she’s been packed for days.”

“Does Alec know?” Ellie asks. She presents her back to Beth, who zips up the latest dress, a silvery confection that makes Ellie feel surprisingly giddy.

“Oh, that’s very good,” Beth says approvingly, and then, “I don’t know! It’s not as though I can talk to _him_ about it.”

“Oh, he’s not so bad if he’s talking about his daughter,” Ellie says, “But I take your point.”

“I was hoping you could do a little, well, detective work,” Beth says. “I’m dyin’ to know more about it, hear what Daisy’s been tellin’ him.”

“Well now I’ve just got to,” Ellie says. “Can we be done now? I haven’t tried on so many clothes in all my life, I think.”

“Just about,” Beth says. “We’ve only got to look at sexy knickers.”

“The hell we do,” Ellie squawks. “What do I need that for?”

Beth shrugs, the very picture of innocence. “Sexy...Italians?” She tries, unconvincingly.

“Well, that doesn’t sound half bad,” Ellie muses, and so they buy sexy knickers.

**  
Of course Alec Hardy hates flying. He doesn’t say so, but most things make him uncomfortable and so this is of course no exception. Ellie watches Hardy cram himself into his tiny economy seat, long limbs tucked in as best he can, careful not to impose on her. She almost wishes he would impose, just a little, although it’s nice that he thinks of it, that he worries about it. Not particularly cozy, but nice.

Daisy and Chloe share the row in front of them, all laughter and little coy gazes from under their eyelashes, and Ellie tries very hard to contain her delight. It’s sweet, just the sweetest thing she can possibly imagine, the way they navigate what appears to be very new and not very well charted territory. Ellie leans over her armrest toward Hardy and elbows him, whispering, “Tell me everything you know about that situation.” She gestures significantly to the seats in front of them, at Daisy and Chloe.

“Oh, like she tells me anything,” Hardy whispers back, but he too looks delighted, conspiratorial. “I think they’re _dating_.” 

“Beth thinks so too,” Ellie says, and if she leans a little closer it’s only so Hardy can hear her, and not at all so that she can drink in the delighted look on his face, the way he can’t even try to hide how happy he is to see his daughter so chuffed, to be included in her life.

“It’s nice, isn’t it,” Hardy says. His grin is well beyond foolish. “They seem so happy.”

“It is,” Ellie agrees. “Plus, you don’t have to worry about teen pregnancy. That’s a relief, yeah?”

Sometimes, making Hardy squirm is just too easy.

They pass the first half hour in relative quiet, a little work talk and a little reading, and then Ellie realizes exactly how unprepared she is for what is to come. 

“You know,” she says, poking a finger in Hardy’s direction, “You haven’t told me at all what I’m getting into. Who exactly is going to be at this thing? Why’s it in Italy? And why in the world did you want me here?” She has to take a fortifying breath, suddenly a little panicked. Why on earth did Hardy think this was a good idea? She’s decided to give herself a pass on agreeing to it. It is Italy, after all. Hardy, however, has no excuse.

“Seems like you might’ve asked that before you got on the plane with me,” Hardy says, but Ellie thinks he’s just deflecting. “It’s my little niece’s wedding.” 

“Annis,” Daisy supplies, from the next row up.

“Yes, yes, Annis, I know her name,” Hardy says. “She’s marrying an Italian boy, name of..” He considers for a moment. “Name of something Italian.”

“Domenico,” Daisy supplies, sounding amused. “Honestly, you’re hopeless.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Ellie says, and winks at Daisy between the seats. “So the wedding’s, what, at his family’s place?”

“Something like that,” Hardy says dismissively. It’s on the invite. Daisy took a photo of it on her ridiculous phone.”

“He’s acting like he doesn’t care,” Daisy says, “But I saw him planning. He has a spreadsheet. He organized his suitcase by _color_.”

“What, blue, blue, and slightly more blue?” Ellie asks. “Must have taken ages.”

“You have no idea,” Daisy says, and then Hardy throws up his hands at them both, and everyone subsides. 

“Is this all going to be picking on me, then?” He says plaintively. “This is already hard on me, you know.”

“You get no sympathy,” Daisy says archly. 

“This was your idea!” Hardy exclaims. “You told me to invite Ellie.”

“Oh no,” Daisy starts. “That’s _not_ what I said. I told you to--” She coughs. “Never mind. It’s lovely to have you along Ellie.” 

“Hang on,” Ellie says, but all members of the Hardy clan are suddenly quite silent.

“All right, fine then,” Ellie says. “At least tell me who’s going to be there. Your family I take it?” She asks, gesturing at Hardy. 

He nods. “Loads of cousins. My sisters, all three of them.”

“And what are they like?” Ellie asks. “Will I get on with them?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hardy says, managing to sound tetchy for absolutely no reason. “I certainly don’t understand them.”

“Right, so what I’m hearing is they’re lovely socially adjusted people and I’m going to get on just fine,” Ellie says, and presents Hardy with her sweetest grin. 

“Probably,” Hardy says despairingly, and retreats to the corner, curling into himself and, seemingly by force of will, taking the world’s most uncomfortable-looking nap. Ellie resists the impulse to shift him, to press her own jumper behind his crumpled neck. She tamps down the powerful urge to brush his hair aside, to find his pulse with her fingers and feel the warmth and life of him, to fit herself to the sharp, lean edges of him and find a way to soften the furrow of his brow. She feels a slightly hysterical laugh bubble up inside her, and forces it back, turns it into a cough. This is going to go just brilliantly.

They deplane and transfer to a regional train line in Rome. There’s only the briefest sliver of the Italian landscape before they’re passing into a tunnel, but Ellie can still feel the delicious strangeness of it all. Around her there’s the occasional burst of rich, luscious language, words she can’t understand but feels on her skin like a caress. Everyone is dressed a bit differently, a bit more effortless and classy. She watches the way people move, all kisses to the cheeks and heads thrown back in laughter. There’s something magical about it all. Ellie recognizes that these are all just people, as normal as herself, but she has no way of knowing that for sure, and that’s the wonder of it. That’s what makes her pulse feel quick. The world suddenly seems so full of possibility. 

Daisy and Chloe are alive with it, too. The train is a high speed line and is mostly underground, but whenever it emerges the girls are plastered to the window, trying to make out the foreign scenery as it rushes by. They’ve managed a group of four clustered seats this time, and Hardy watches them all indulgently, leaned back in his seat with an unusually comfortable air. He looks so pleased, so easy, and Ellie can barely stand it. It seems so unfair, that this is all Hardy needs to be happy, and yet he is so very, profoundly unhappy almost all the time. Ellie hurts for him, and for herself. She tries not to hurt too much for the girls, who have so much life yet, despite all that has happened already. She sighs, tries to release that hurt. Hardy sighs too, leaning toward her in a way that is almost certainly unconscious, and in that moment it feels very much like they are in this together.

Ellie doesn’t mean to sleep, but she must have drifted off, because the next thing she knows she can feel the train slowing, and Alec is making a very unimpressed face at her. 

“Shut up,” Ellie says, though Hardy hasn’t said anything, has only been looking at her in that deep, unfathomable way of his.

“You’re on my coat,” Hardy says, and Ellie realizes that she’s on more than that. She’s half draped against Hardy, can feel the curve of his knee against her shin, the shift of his trousers against her own. She startles back, resists the urge to apologize.

“No bother,” Hardy says quietly, and reaches past her to help Daisy lower her suitcase from the luggage rack. Ellie resolutely does not flinch at the closeness of him. 

Outside the train station, Alec veers off down a cobbled street, evidently already knowing where to go. Ellie falls into step with Daisy. “Nice, isn’t it?” She says, gesturing around her. “So this is Lucca?”

“Really nice,” Daisy agrees, but Ellie isn’t sure if she means the town, or the fact that she and Chloe are walking arm in arm in Tuscany, under the pleasant heat of the late summer sun. Hard to blame them, really. She leaves them to their own devices and joins Hardy, who is consulting a printed map. 

“Where are we headed, then?” Ellie asks. 

“It’s supposed to be outside the city walls, Hardy says. He’s got his glasses on, and he’s frowning at the map as though waiting for it to speak to him.

“Oh, give it here,” Ellie says, and snatches it out of Hardy’s grasp. She smoothes it out on her thigh and studies it, finding the train station. “Where are we meant to go, then?”

Hardy points, and Ellie steers them right, rolling her eyes. “Bloody hopeless,” she says fondly, and they stride off into town, shoes clacking on the cobblestones.

By the time they arrive at the villa, everyone is knackered, though it’s only half seven. That doesn’t stop Ellie from being absolutely charmed by her surroundings. 

It’s the kind of Tuscan landscape that looks like it was taken right off a postcard, all cream and umber buildings with terracotta roof tiles. The villa is sat atop a small hill, surrounded by verdant fields. Neat olive groves are terraced into the hillside, and grapevines are staked in precise lines that encircle the hill. As Ellie climbs the path to the villa’s front door there’s a little kitchen garden, obviously lovingly tended. It’s densely populated with late summer tomatoes, the cooking herbs lush and verdant. Plants edge the stone walkway, leaves bursting with their bright, sharp scents at the lightest brush. 

“Right,” Ellie says, a little dumbstruck. “Let’s get this show started.”

“Don’t forget,” Alec murmurs, so close to her that Ellie can feel his breath against her neck. “Keep it simple.”

He steps around her to open the door, and Ellie’s glad that she doesn’t have to come up with a reply.

Inside the villa, everything is noise and sight and smell. Alec’s family is already in attendance, a handful of milk-pale individuals with unmistakable freckles, as is seemingly everyone who has ever met the groom. The wedding not until Sunday afternoon, but most have evidently taken advantage of the trip and arrived early, so as to spend Saturday sightseeing. Ellie is immediately greeted by a horde of people, varying degrees of Scottish and Italian consonants rolled in her direction. She somewhat dizzily kisses cheeks with Domenico, his mum and dad, his brother and sister and apparently four of his best mates. The mates are all strikingly similar looking, tight denim and fitted polo shirts with the collars up, short but lush hair carefully styled. Ellie immediately forgets their names and can only think of them as a unit. 

Domenico’s mum Louisa is everything Ellie has ever imagined an Italian matriarch to be. She’s broad and beautiful, long hair pulled into a heavy plait that swings behind her as she sways between the hearth and the table. She’s cutting ribbons of fresh pasta directly on the scarred wooden table with long, even knife-strokes, tossing handfuls of it into a huge pot at the hearth. Ellie watches, entranced. Louisa’s features are tanned and laugh-lined, her hands labour-rough. Everything about her is sturdy, weather worn, lovely. She interjects into the overall flow of conversation now and then with sharp bursts of Italian that are not difficult to understand, punctuated as they are by extensive and vigorous hand gestures. Ellie is a little bit in love. 

And then there’s Alec’s family. The bride-to-be, Annis, is slender and whip-smart. She shifts seemingly effortlessly between English and Italian, laughing brightly at jokes and simultaneously carrying on some very complex conversation that Ellie barely skirts the edges of understanding, something about physics. Alec’s cousins are interspersed with the Italians, looking as shell-shocked as Ellie feels and talking quietly to one another when the tidal wave of Italian ebbs. All, that is, except for Alec’s sisters. 

The trio of sisters is sat all in a row beside Annis, lined up on the bench that abuts the dinner table. They are unquestionably a matched set, tall and stocky and something that Ellie can only think of as hearty. They all look like they’d be happy hauling peat on a moor somewhere, cheeks ruddy and dappled with freckles. There’s variation in their features, hairstyles, manners of dress, but they all share Alec’s nose, and there’s something of him in their dark eyes, too. It’s hard to imagine them all together, Alec so sharp and narrow and closed off, when they are all laughter and delighted openness. 

Ellie holds a hand out to each of them in turn, meeting Liza, Carys, and Gracie. Gracie is the oldest, her wiry hair all mad curls and mostly grey. She’s sporty and capable looking, the sort of person who probably gets up early to hike in the mountains every morning. Carys is elegant, sleek in a sheath dress and chunky wooden jewelry. She’s a doctor, and she fits the part. She has the air of someone who looks calmly over people’s vitals on a clipboard at the A and E. Liza is the youngest of the three of them, and there’s the most of Alec in her. She’s more amply built than him, but she shapes her laughs in the exact same way as does Alec, when he can be persuaded to laugh. She’s in a long, mad-patterned muumuu, and she wears big, bright rings on most of her fingers. She is a professional violist, and evidently, the mother of the bride. 

“So you’re our little Alec’s girlfriend,” Gracie says, and she seems delighted about it. “Good on you, love.”

“Not sure why you chose him, but I suppose it takes all sorts,” Carys adds. She laughs to soften it, all bright and easy. 

“Well, you don’t know me yet,” Ellie says, feeling suddenly protective. “Might be I’m a right git.”

“I’m sure you’re lovely, dear,” Gracie says, and then Ellie is pulled down to join the sisters, and drawn easily into the sing-song of their conversation. She’s vaguely aware of Alec and the girls, sitting down beside them. The girls are wide-eyed, full up on amazement. Hardy just looks exhausted. Ellie spares a moment to worry for him, so out of his element, but the sisters will not be ignored. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it, Carys says, gesturing around them at the kitchen.

“It’s honestly surreal,” Ellie says, passing her gaze over the butter-coloured walls. She surveys the kitchen, dominated by the gigantic table they’re lined up at. It looks easily capable of seating sixteen, but there must be more than that crammed in currently, sitting on mismatched chairs and stools all shoved in close together. The light of the hearth lends the room a warm, cozy glow that reaches up a warm light to the rough-hewn beams lining the ceiling. Tattered cookbooks are stacked in piles on a collection of handsome wood shelves, and there’s a little pantry door hanging open, through which Ellie can see bottles and jars all neatly labeled and lined up three deep on yet more shelving. “Do you know what the family does?”

“Something called agrotourism,” Liza offers. “Apparently that means they just go about their life on the farm, only sometimes Americans come to stay and gawk at them, and ask for bread with olive oil.”

“Oh, hush,” Gracie says. “Other kinds of tourists come too. Mostly American, though,” she concedes. “It’s like an hotel, so they’ve got rooms for everyone, and more food than we can begin to eat. Ah, your timing was perfect; there’s the food now.” She points, and indeed, Louisa and Domenico are bearing down on them, carrying huge pots of pasta. They make a procession around the table, ladling it out for each person, accepting thanks and kisses before moving on. Ellie looks around the table, expecting some sort of exotic Italian etiquette. Everyone seems to be eating straight away, though, so Ellie tries hers too. She can’t hold in a little gasp at the first bite. It’s so thick and chewy, almost meaty. The pasta is simple, coated in nothing more than a bit of cheese and bright, spicy pepper. 

Without looking, she feels Alec shift, beside her. “Good lord, that is delicious,” she says for his benefit, and Alec chuckles, quiet but genuine.

“Ah, cacio e pepe,” Carys proclaims, shattering the moment. “Exquisite.”

Ellie elbows Alec, who is quietly stirring his pasta with his fork. “Go on, then, it’s lovely.”

Alec obliges, taking a tiny bite, and Ellie savours his surprised, pleased noise. Somehow, that’s even better than the food.

After dinner, there’s much more talking, and someone plinks out little bits of melodies on the battered old upright piano that resides in the corner of the sitting room. The mates wander off, saying something about a hot spring with quite a few significant winks and gazes at some of the eligible ladies in attendance, and finally Alec proclaims that he wants to get some sleep. Ellie registers it vaguely, almost waves him off with the sort of amicable goodbye she’d use if Hardy had said it at work, then realizes with a gulp that she’s not here to be herself, not exactly. She’s here to play a role, and that role involves sharing a bedroom, and presumably a bed, with Hardy. She steels herself, and says goodnight to all the sisters. Ellie really doesn’t like the way they all look at her, sharp and thoughtful, but she puts it from her mind.

She’s not surprised to be right about the bed. There’s just one, in a relatively small but cozy room. It’s not even a particularly large bed, room for both of them but not with any real barrier of safety. Hardy is standing before it with a look of abject terror, indicating that this had not, apparently, occurred to him.

“Do I have to sleep in the car?” Ellie asks. “Only, I’m really knackered, so if you could have your internal crisis quietly, that would be ideal.”

“No, no,” Alec says darkly. “You don’t understand. We can’t let our guard down. He sighs wearily. “My sisters have no sense of privacy. They might barge in here tomorrow morning.”

“Isn’t there a lock on the door?” Ellie asks, scandalized. 

“I checked,” Alec says miserably. “There’s not.” 

Ellie feels a hysterical laugh bubbling up in her, and clamps it firmly down. “Right. We’ve done this before, it’s nothing to be frightened of. Buck up, Hardy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hardy says resentfully, but he wanders off to change into pajamas, flannel bottoms and the softest t-shirt Ellie has ever seen. She takes a turn in the en-suite bathroom, pausing to admire the old-fashioned claw foot tub before changing into her own nightdress and brushing her teeth. When she emerges Hardy is already in under the blankets with his glasses on, very carefully and deliberately focusing on a book. He ignores her, not looking up as she approaches.

“Right,” Ellie mutters, and climbs in bed beside Hardy. She can feel the heat of him, radiating off him in waves. It feels delicious in contrast to the chill of the cool sheets, and Ellie has to resist leaning into it, snugging her body to the long line of his. She very deliberately turns her back to him. It’s much safer like this, where she can’t lose herself in the movement of Alec’s throat as he breathes, the surprising softness of that delicate skin at the base of his neck, the elegant sharp jut of his clavicle. Ellie feels like her skin is suddenly stretched too tight, alive with sensation. The slide of the sheets against her arms is torture, her body coiled with want. She thinks very hard, and with great conviction, about how this is all Beth’s fault, until she finally falls asleep.

** 

Ellie wakes up early the next morning to find that Alec is absolutely _everywhere_. She comes to slowly, and it takes a moment to realize that Alec’s hair is in her mouth. Ellie shifts a little, spitting it out, but Hardy doesn’t stir. He’s curled toward her, lips parted in sleep, and Ellie realizes with a sharp hot twist of her gut that her leg is thrown possessively over Hardy’s, keeping him close. She quietly hyperventilates for a moment, trying to figure out how to extricate herself without waking him up. Really, Alec is no better, though. He’s curled up against her so snugly, his whole body angled toward her. His head is tucked in under her chin, and Ellie is hyper aware of everything: the softness of his hair, the arch of his nose against her throat, the way his exhaled breaths skate along the tops of her breasts, shivery and cool. Ellie feels like a teenager, miserable and hormonal, wanting with every part of herself to lean into the touch. She wants to press closer, to make it all intentional and delicious. She realizes with a jolt that she is wet and wanting, shivery and oversensitized with desire. She wants to nothing more than to rub up against a body that wants hers, all the bits of them aligned and yearning for the same connection, and oh, this is so very bad. Ellie launches herself out of the bed and throws herself into the bathroom, not looking back to see Alec Hardy waking up all soft and sleepy and confused. She throws herself into an ice cold bath and very deliberately tries to erase the last thirty minutes from body and brain alike.

When she emerges from the bathroom, Alec is up and dressed. He’s still a little tousled, but he’s no longer that easy, curling thing he was at first light. Now he’s folded back into himself, solitary and presentable. Ellie is relieved, though she feels a pang for it too. She wishes, for a brief and fervent moment, that she could have stayed beside him, watched him wake up and maybe kept that softness about him, just a little longer.

“Morning, boyfriend,” she says brightly, immediately regretting it when Alec chokes on nothing.

“Don’t do that,” he beseeches, “It’s bad enough as it is.”

“Ever the flatterer,” Ellie says, and tries not to let herself feel hurt about it, though it does sting. “Fancy some breakfast?”

“Could do with it,” Alec agrees, and they make their way downstairs. 

**

Daisy and Chloe are already awake, and chattering away brightly with a young woman of Domenico’s clan. She speaks reasonably good English, her accent thick and charming. 

“Lucia’s offered to take us to see the sights,” Chloe says, giving Hardy her most earnest and innocent look. “Can we go with her? We thought you might want to do grown up things, and we could just have an afternoon to explore.”

“Yeah,” Daisy adds, looking significantly at her father and the assorted Italians. “We thought you might want to do something _romantic_. You know, as a couple.”

“Oh, how adorable,” Gracie says from behind them, and Alec jumps. Ellie resists laughing at it, but the startled expression on Alec’s face is perfection. “We were going to invite you two to spend the day with us, thought we could get to know you a bit better. But of course the lovers want to go off on their own in Tuscany. Perfectly natural.” She winks outrageously at Ellie. “I found out where the hot springs are located. I’ll mark it on your map and you can join us there for a nightcap, eh?”

“Ta,” Ellie says and shares a look of disbelief with Alec. Somehow, the day has been totally engineered without either of them getting any say. She supposes it’s better than being quizzed by the sisters all afternoon, though, and so Ellie acquiesces, drinking her tiny coffee while everyone around them plans their own days.

**

“I’m sorry about this,” Alec says, once they’re out of the villa. There’s no real agenda but to wander around town, which suits Ellie perfectly.

“Listen, I have a list of items spanning years that you need to be sorry for,” Ellie says, matching pace with Hardy, “But I don’t know which one you’re apologizing for right now.”

“Just, _this_.” Alec says, and throws his hands up in frustration. “This whole thing. It’s so awkward, and everyone’s a busybody, and the girls are telling us what to do, and you can’t even get a moment’s peace from me.”

“Alec,” Ellie says, and she stops walking, pressing a hand down on his forearm to stop him too. “Just take a breath.” She waits expectantly until he does, ridiculously exaggerated and a bit sarcastic, but that’s alright because it calms him well enough. “We’re in a beautiful place. Everyone has been very kind to us. Your daughter is just trying to help. Honestly, the only thing I’m sad about is you haven’t asked me to have a nice glass of Italian wine.

“Oh my god, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Alec says fervently, and proceeds to get Ellie ludicrously tipsy in the middle of the afternoon. 

They wander the historic centre after lunch, drinking in the warmth of the sun. Ellie is wearing one of her new outfits, a very smart sundress that isn’t so frilly as to make her feel childish, but swirls nicely against her legs as she moves. Alec is wine-loose, his shirtsleeves rucked up over his elbows, his arms swinging at his sides as they walk. It’s easy, not much talking, but that inexplicable feeling that things are just that extra bit magical because Ellie is seeing it all with someone else. She drags Hardy down all the most interesting little corners and paths, and they end up on top of the city walls, sweet smelling and grassy, their gait slowing to an amble. Ellie feels, suddenly, like time might have stopped, or they might have fallen out of step with it and ended up in their own little pocket of existence, alone but together, easy but tense with possibility. Alec’s knuckles brush her wrist as they walk, and Ellie doesn’t shift away.

There are spritzes, orange and bubbly and tangy, and then there is food that comes out on a cutting board, lovely crumbly cheeses and thick salumi and olives taut with brine. More wine, of course, and crostini with artichokes, delicious sharp vegetables roasted and served in long strips. They finish off with gelato, and it feels so easy to steal a spoonful of Hardy’s hazelnut, to squawk and shield her own pistachio with her arms tight about it, to toss her head back and laugh when Hardy snatches it out of her grip. He’s laughing too, and his eyes are bright and open.

After dinner they walk back to the villa, chatting easily. Ellie feels loose-limbed, pleasantly buzzed and contentedly full. She sneaks a gaze at Alec now and then and he looks much the same, his movements a little fuzzy around the edges with drink, his face unusually relaxed. 

“Suppose we’d better go say hello to your family,” Ellie says. Hardy sighs, but he doesn’t disagree. 

Back at the villa, Chloe and Daisy are tangled up on an ancient settee reading together. Ellie asks after the rest of the family, and finds out that they’re already at the hot spring. Ellie grabs Hardy by the arm and drags him off, before he has a chance to protest. “We’ll just say hello,” Ellie says firmly. “It won’t take long at all.”

The walk down the hill to the spring is a little bit treacherous in the dark, but Ellie is still sloshed enough that it just makes her feel giggly and ridiculous, leaning into Alec as they pick their way down the path. He seems much the same, laughing open and easy, pressing right back into the contact.

The cave is set into the base of the hill and it might have been very creepy, except that it’s lit with loads of fairy lights and ringing with laughter and chatter. Annis and Domenico are there, flouting every night-before-a-wedding trope that Ellie can think of. They’re submerged in the steaming water, and Annis is leant back against Domenico’s chest, her wet hair plastered to his torso. Alec’s sisters are there as well, and Domenico’s gaggle of mates, along with a few other assorted Italians of different size, shape and gender. Ellie accepts that she isn’t going to remember any names, and settles for generic hellos.

“Come on in, then, Carys says, motioning to them. 

“Oh, we can’t,” Ellie says regretfully. “Didn’t bring bathing costumes, us. It looks wonderful, though.”

“Oh, we’re all in our pants anyway,” Liza says, and stands up to show them. 

“_Mum_,” Annis says, but she’s laughing, not really bothered. 

Somewhere in the distance, the rational part of Ellie’s brain is shouting that this is the world’s absolute worst idea, but Ellie _wants_ this. She wants the warmth and companionship. She wants to sink into the hot water and be a little too close to Alec and not care. She wants to drink in the joy and happiness of this group of human beings, and just stop worrying for once in her life. She raises her eyebrows at Alec. “Well, shall we, love?”

“Oh, _love_,” Carys simpers. “Can’t say no to that, Alec.”

Alec quirks a brow back at her, sharp and thoughtful. “Why not,” he says thoughtfully. Ellie is so surprised that she almost falls into the water fully clothed, but she manages to contain herself. 

“Well,” she says, flustered. “Well that’s just, uh.” She twists around the pull down the zip on her dress, not meeting Alec’s eyes. “Yeah, that’s just--- that’s-- that is what it is.”

Alec snorts, and she hears fabric shifting behind her as Alec undresses. Ellie can’t look back, can’t stand to think what her reaction might be in front of all these people. She steps off the rocky outcropping and into the water instead, sinking down slowly into the heat. 

Alec joins her a moment later. He’s still wearing a t-shirt and Ellie remembers, suddenly, the pacemaker scar and the conversation Alec doesn’t want to have. 

“Such a bloody prude, little brother,” Gracie says, but there isn’t much heat in it. She seems pleased that Alec agreed to join them at all.

“Can’t keep up with Italians, can I?” Alec says, and oh, he must still be feeling that wine. Ellie feels suddenly protective of him. She circles a hand around his wrist, picks his arm up and drapes it over her shoulder. Alec is still and tense for a moment, then relaxes into it with a sigh. Ellie shifts a little closer, finding a comfortable spot, and exhales into his side. 

“I like you just as you are,” she says quietly, and she’s not sure if it’s for the sisters’ benefit or for Alec alone. Doesn’t matter, really. It’s true all the same.

Yet another bottle of wine is handed around, and Ellie isn’t sure if it’s on purpose that Alec’s fingers linger against her own as he passes it her way. She squeezes her eyes closed and lets herself enjoy the heat and the closeness, feeling the tension in her shoulders unspool as the warmth soaks in. 

“I do not understand you English,” one of the mates opines, looking quizzically around the circle. “You do not touch. You do not kiss.” 

“Well, don’t put us all in that category,” Liza says. “Look at the young lovers, there.”

“This is different,” the mate says. “Annis is treasure. Annis might be Italian, some part.”

Annis laughs delightedly. “Bollocks to that,” she says, sounding as Scottish as she ever has. “I just know how to enjoy life.”

“Yes,” the mate insists. “This is Italian, to enjoy life. Is not English.” He directs his attention toward Alec, raising his eyebrows at him. “You do not hold your lover so close. You treat her like glass. How is this enjoying your love? This is not enough. You do not even touch, most of the time.”

Ellie feels Alec tense beside her. She is suddenly stiff again, rigid with the embarrassment of being put on the spot. Her cheeks feel too warm, and she crosses her arms uncomfortably over her chest.

“Oh, leave off it,” Gracie starts, but Alec cuts her off.

“You don’t think I treat Ellie well enough?” He says to the mate, and his voice is dangerously quiet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ellie tries lamely. “He’s just taking the piss.”

“_No,_” Alec says fiercely. “You think I don’t worship her? You think I don’t think of her always, want to touch her all the time? If that’s what you think then you don’t know anything.” 

“This is not the question,” the mate says. He’s smirking, seemingly enjoying Alec’s distress. “You say that you love her, this is all fine. But why you do not _show_ it?” He gestures, easy and fluid and Italian, a movement that seems to encompass everything about them. 

“Oh, just give her a snog so we can stop fretting about this,” Carys says. Annis snorts into Domenico’s shoulder, splashing at Carys. 

“Come off it, Aunt Carys. This is harassment.”

Ellie looks at Alec, somewhat unwillingly. She’s not sure what she will see, and there is something dangerous and fragile unfolding in her chest. 

Alec’s eyes are dark and open, his lips slightly parted. He darts his tongue out to wet them, his pulse jumping beneath the fragile skin of his throat. “Should I?” He asks quietly.

Ellie closes her eyes, squeezes them, then forces herself to look up at Alec as she nods.

Alec’s free hand comes up to cup her jaw, his thumb rough against her cheek. Ellie is encircled in his arms, drowning in the nearness of him. Her eyes drift closed again, and so it is a shock when she feels Alec’s lips on her own, gentle and hesitant, but very much there. 

It’s a chaste kiss, but there’s desperation in it, something raw and open that she shouldn’t be surprised to find in Alec. It makes Ellie want to pull him into her arms and press his brow into her softness. It makes her want to climb into his lap and see what else is waiting for her. She deepens the kiss instead, stifling a groan at the delicious insistence that Alec returns.

“Ought we to give you two some privacy?” Liza interrupts, and they break apart, breathing heavily. Ellie feels hot with mortification, and she can’t look at Alec. 

“_Yes,_” Alec says fervently, as though he doesn’t notice that it’s a joke, or just doesn’t care, and oh. Ellie loves him. She realizes it with a suddenness that steals the air from her lungs. She loves him. She loves Alec Harding, and he has just kissed her basically on a dare, and Ellie just has no idea at all what to do with that. 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, does it?” Carys says, and then people are laughing and the conversation moves on around them. Ellie chances a look at Alec and his expression is a lot like what she expects her own face is currently doing. His eyes are blown wide, his cheeks flushed. His mouth looks so wet and open, so surprisingly lush. Ellie takes a sharp, shuddering breath. She bites down on her lip, hoping the sting of it will bring her back to reality. Alec gasps, sharp and uneven, and Ellie feels it in her very core.

“Do you want to get out of here?” She asks quietly. She’s not sure exactly what she’s offering, but anything is better than this. Ellie cannot exist in this bizarre normalcy when her world has just completely shattered. Or maybe it has completely fallen into place. Ellie doesn’t know which option is more terrifying. They’re both terrifying, rather. 

“Yeah,” Alec says quietly, after a moment. His voice comes out rough, deliciously so. Ellie can’t help but thrill at the idea that, somehow, she did this to Hardy. It’s heady, intoxicating. “Yeah,” Hardy says again, and there’s more force in it this time. “Let’s go.” He helps Ellie stand against the pull of the water, his arm snugged warmly against Ellie’s ribs as he gives her a hand up onto the ledge before following. He seems reluctant to stop touching her, fitting himself to her side again once they’re both out of the water. 

“Night, then,” Ellie says, vaguely in the direction of the group still in the water. There’s chatter behind her, but it fuzzes out indistinctly, irrelevant in the face of Alec Hardy taking her by the hand and hurrying her back up the path to the villa and their room.

Thankfully Daisy and Chloe are nowhere to be seen by the time they slip inside. They creep up the stairs as quietly as possible, and then they’re in their own room, Alec leaning heavily against the closed door. He looks at her quietly for a moment, just breathing deeply. Ellie has a moment to wonder whether he’s having second thoughts, and why wouldn’t he? She’s standing before him an absolute wreck, her ridiculous sexy knickers absolutely sodden and her hair frizzed out from the humidity. She feels pinned by his gaze, undone. 

Alec sighs, passes a hand through the mess of his hair, and then he’s pushing himself off from the door, stripping his shirt off and tossing it aside as he reaches for her. He wraps his hands around her, fingers passing over her shoulder blades, and whispers into her neck, “You’re a bloody vision, and you are far too good for me.” 

Ellie shivers, dragging him closer. “Oh, go on then,” she says faintly. 

Alec nuzzles at her throat, his lips warm against the underside of her chin as he works his way up her jaw. “I can hardly think when I’m near you,” he says against the corner of her mouth, like it’s a secret just for her. 

“Then stop bloody thinking,” Ellie says, and drags him in for a proper snog. 

Things move rather quickly after that. Ellie wrestles free of her bra, but then their pants are wet and rapidly going cold, so it just makes sense to strip them off and press together, shivering at the slide of skin on skin. Ellie is by turns hot and cold, her body fizzing as Alec skates his hands over her, mapping out every inch of her skin. He makes a broken, desperate noise when Ellie guides his hands to her breasts, ducking his head to her collarbone as he learns the shapes of her nipples with his fingertips. Ellie thinks his hands might be shaking a little, but she can’t tell for sure if it’s him or her. She cards her fingers through his hair, cups the base of his skull and groans into his touch. Alec makes an answering noise, open and wanting, and Ellie feels it as a rush of heat and wetness between her thighs. Suddenly, Ellie can’t bear to exist in a world where Alec is not touching her there. She seizes his hand in her own, presses it down toward her belly. “All right?” she asks, breathlessly.

“_God_ yes,” Alec says fervently, and then his fingers are dragging down over her pubic hair, passing over her clit. He gasps, warm and delighted, when his fingers find the wet center of her. “You’re so--” he starts, and shakes his head. “I don’t know. You’re so good.” 

“Strong argument to be made for you being the good one, currently,” Ellie replies, shifting her hips into Alec’s touch. His fingers dip into her, just enough for her to feel deliciously filled up by him, but before she can really direct the pressure toward her g-spot Alec is withdrawing them, breathing heavily as he extricates himself from their supine tangle and propping himself up against the headboard. 

“Come here,” he begs, and draws her into the vee of his spread legs, his erection heavy against her spine. Ellie shifts back against his chest, and Alec’s chin ends up on her shoulder. He’s watching her intently, staring hungrily down the length of her body as he presses his fingers into her again, the base of his palm pressing deliciously against her clit. 

Ellie can’t help but groan, long and luxurious. She feels his cock jump against her back, and oh, _god,_ Hardy is getting off on her enjoyment. Ellie bucks her hips up into Alec’s fingers, now pressing so firm and good against her g-spot, then feverishly back against the heat and hardness of him. He’s shifting a little against her back, tiny rutting motions that she suspects are mostly unconscious. He seems hyper focused on her, tracking every minute shift and noise that she makes, seeking out the things that make her moan and squeeze around his fingers. “I’m going to--” she makes out, and Alec says, “_yes,_ yes _please,_ and then every muscle in Ellie’s body seems to tense at once as she comes.

Alec works her through the aftershocks, still so focused on her. Ellie’s heart is hammering, and she feels entirely liquid, molten and loose. She can still feel Alec shifting fitfully against her, and despite being entirely boneless, Ellie wants nothing more than to watch Alec’s face as he comes for her. She twists in his lap, meeting his eyes and eliciting a short, sharp nod when she reaches for him. 

It only takes a moment. He’s already so hard, already pushing desperately into her hand as she wraps her fingers around his erection and savours the feel of him. She drinks in his little gasps, the short, sharp snapping of his hips as he fucks into her hand. Ellie fumbles with her free hand, finds his fingers still gently cupped around her pubic bone, gentle and reverent. She snugs them back inside her, squeezes around him, snaps her hips at the almost too sensitive feel of his touch, and that’s it. Alec goes off in her hand with a wounded noise, and they both collapse onto the bed. 

**

Ellie wakes up the next morning still full up with contentment. She wriggles down the bed to indulge in a full body stretch, yawning as she sits up from there, the sheets pooling at her waist. Alec is already up, already fully dressed and sitting awkwardly on a chair pretending to read. He glances up at her, his eyes shuttered behind his glasses. He stands, looming awkwardly before her. 

“Good morning, you,” Ellie says sunnily. 

“Look” he says quietly. “This was-- God.” He pulls his glasses off, squeezing his temples. “I’m sorry. I told you I wouldn’t take things too far and I obviously did, last night. I let my, my _feelings_ get the best of me and I don’t know how I can ever ask you to forgive me for that. Please don’t think that I brought you here just in the hopes that you’d--- That I’d--” He cuts off, his jaw working. 

“Wait, hang on,” Ellie says, and there’s that mortification blooming in her belly again, hot and awful. “I think you’re mistaken here.”

“I can’t do this,” Alec says quietly, 

“Do what?” Ellie asks quietly, and it feels as though her heart is shattering inside her chest. It feels unbearable.

“Just, this.” Alec says quietly, and then he’s fumbling for the door, shoulders hunched as he gets it open. 

“Wait,” Ellie says desperately, but Hardy is gone. The door shuts hard behind him. Ellie sits silently for a moment, naked and bewildered, and then she gives in and cries.

She hears a tap at the door some indeterminate time later. Ellie ignores it at first, but it keeps going, rather insistently. 

“Hang on,” she calls, scrubbing at her cheeks. Her eyes feel tight and swollen, the rest of her hollowed out and empty. She grabs a dressing gown and wraps it about herself, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, okay. Come in.”

“Hello, love.” It’s Gracie, already dressed for the wedding and peeking her head around the door. “Oh, oh my dear,” she says, taking in Ellie’s state. “May I come in?”

“Fine,” Ellie says miserably. Gracie shuts the door gently behind her and joins Ellie, perching beside her on the bed. 

“My brother did something ridiculous, didn’t he?” Gracie says, but not unkindly. Her voice is quiet, gentler than Ellie has heard it thus far. 

“_God_” Ellie chokes out, suddenly furious at herself. “It was so _stupid_ of me to come here. I think I knew all along why I wanted to come, but I didn’t admit it to myself until it was too late, and now it’s all gone bloody wrong.” A few more tears escape, and Ellie wipes frustratedly at them with a corner of the sheet. It smells like Alec, which just makes her chest clench more.

“Alec’s not known for his brilliant people skills,” Gracie says carefully. “But I have to say, the pretend girlfriend thing is a new low, even for him.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me, I work with him every day,” Ellie says bitterly. Then, “Hang on, you knew? Did you know from the start?”

Gracie twists her mouth apologetically. “Well, yes. Yes, I did.”

“Bollocks,” Ellie says. “Well now I’m even more embarrassed. Was it that obvious?”

Gracie chuckles. “Probably not, not if you don’t know Alec as well as I do. But I saw him for years with Tess, and I know what he’s like when he’s already really comfortable with someone. He cherishes you, I can see that, but he stops himself from reaching out for you, always. I knew straight away that he asked you here so that he could pretend it was something more. Besides.” She shrugs, a little sheepishly. “I saw you in the news.” 

“Well that’s just lovely,” Ellie bites out. “Did he think that would be fine for me? Did he think it wouldn’t hurt me? Besides, he got what he wanted and then he walked out on me, this morning. Said he regretted it all.”

“Right.” Gracie sighs. “Something you should know about my little brother.” She shifts on the bed, leaning back against her hands. “Alec wasn’t always like this. As a child he was really affectionate. Still a shy, nervous little thing, but he’d run across the room to hug you, sure as anything. What a laugh he had, like a little bell.” 

“What happened?” Ellie asks, miserably curious in spite of herself. 

“Our dad died. Took a long time doing it, too. He was sick for ages, just steadily getting worse and worse. It was terrible for all of us, but Alec was so much younger. I don’t think he really understood why everyone was so sad all of a sudden.” Gracie frowns, sad and tender. “Liza went off to Uni a year after he passed. The house was awful. Our mum had spent such a long time caring for our dad, and she tended toward depression even before that. My sisters and and I were of an age where we just wanted to escape, and so we all went back to our studies and our little lives outside of home. We were so young and stupid, we never thought what it must be like for Alec. He lived there all alone with mum, and her depressive spells got worse and worse. He cared for her, a lot of the time. He’d go out and buy tinned food for her, fizzy drinks and packets of fags. Once I was home on break and I saw him light one for her, in his own little mouth. God.” 

She sighs. “He was so young. Little by little, the joy drained out of him. He wouldn’t hug me anymore when I came home to visit. Eventually we just accepted that that was the way he was, just closed off to all of us. It took me years to understand, to realize that he wasn’t always like that. Grief’s a funny thing, as I think you well know. Anyway.” She clears her throat. “Alec’s not easy to know, and he panics when people get too close. Besides which, I think he’s probably really guilty and embarrassed. I suspect he thinks you were just being kind to him, or that he took advantage of you somehow. It’s so hard for him to believe that someone could just want him. Breaks my heart to see it. Doesn’t excuse how he treated you, of course, love.”

“Right,” Ellie says quietly. “Right. That’s a lot to think on, but I’d better get dressed. How long ‘til the ceremony?”

“You’ve an hour and a half,” Gracie says. “Do you need anything? Only, I think you could be terribly good for one another. I hate to see you suffering.”

“He’s the one who needs to be convinced of that,” Ellie says bitterly, then sighs. I’ll be alright.” She hopes that she can convince herself of that. She doesn’t know where to put her tangled mess of emotions, how to sort them out and understand the various hurts, confusions, and wants. “Let’s just go to the wedding, and then I’ll figure out the rest.”

“Let me just hug you, sweetling,” Gracie says, and Ellie lets herself be enfolded in Gracie’s sturdy warmth, breathing in her gardenia perfume. “You are a dear, I knew it from the first. Let me know if you need anything at all.”

Ellie closes her eyes, and for a moment thinks of nothing, just letting herself be held.

**

A quick shower and a brisk face scrubbing later and Ellie is reasonably presentable. She considers throwing on something easy, the effort of getting dressed seeming insurmountable. She bought a dress especially for this, though, and it seems like she’s letting the bad feelings win if she doesn’t wear it. She zips up the silvery dress and tames her hair, watching herself in the mirror. 

Downstairs, the household is in chaos. Assorted Scots and Italians are dashing about, draining tiny espresso cups or snatching up bits of cured meat and bread. A more sedate contingent sits at the dining table, wrapping up sugared almonds in scraps of tulle and tying them up with ribbons. Ellie feels comforted by the buzz of activity, everyone seemingly too busy to even notice her. She works very hard to not search for Alec in the crowd, keeping her eyes focused on the scarred grain of the table as she passes it by.

The reception is to be held on the lawn, and Ellie slips through the horde in search of somewhere to sit. Chairs are arranged outside, crisp and white above the green of the hillside. 

Chloe and Daisy are there already, charming in their flowered sundresses. Ellie doesn’t feel up to acting normal, but the girls wave at her and gesture for her to join them, so Ellie relents, taking a chair beside the girls. 

“What’s wrong?” Chloe says immediately. “You look really sad, what’s happened?”

“It’s alright,” Ellie says heavily. It’s terrible that Chloe is so prepared for tragedy now, so sure that the next terrible thing is due to occur. “Everything’s okay. I’ve just had a difficult morning.”

“My dad did something, didn’t he?” Daisy says, and her tone is dark, all storm clouds. 

“Please don’t worry yourself about it,” Ellie tries. She’s caught, not wanting to lie or to draw the girls into her own personal misery. 

“No,” Daisy says. “We’re not idiots, or children. I can tell he did something to you and I need to know what so I can figure out how furious to be.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ellie says wearily. “It’s not right to put you in the middle of this. This isn’t anything to do with you. Your dad loves you terribly and he’d be so upset if you got pulled into this.” 

“He’s been in love with you for years,” Daisy interrupts, outraged. “He told me not to tell you but it’s so _stupid_, and now he’s gone and ruined it because he’s being such a bloody muppet. He didn’t mean for me to find out, but he hasn’t got anyone else except you to talk to, and I guess.” She shrugs, sudden, sharp, angry. “I just wanted him to be happy for once, so I told him he should invite you here. You know, as his date. I told him you’d want him back, because I’m not totally blind. He just wouldn’t do it. He said he couldn’t bear losing you, but what’s he gone and done now?”

Ellie sighs, suddenly weary. “Sometimes wanting each other isn’t enough, love. Sometimes it’s just a lot more complicated than that. Your dad’s just---. Well, he hasn’t got everything figured out, and I can’t do that for him.”

“Sorry, Mrs. M.,” Chloe says, “But I think that’s bollocks.” Her tone is quiet, but she sounds very determined. “I think wanting each other is exactly what matters. If you want each other enough, you figure the rest out. That’s what it means to love someone. You figure out how to make all the messy parts of your lives match up, and you face it together.” She’s gazing at Daisy now, equal parts fear and admiration. “It doesn’t matter how weird and awkward and scary it is. If you really want to be together, you just go for it. Otherwise what’s the point of living?”

“Oh, my little loves,” Ellie says quietly. “You’re too good for this world, but I’m glad you’re both in it.” She looks at their hands, their interlaced fingers. “You’re both so good.”

“We’re not really,” Daisy says uncomfortably.

“Good for each other,” Chloe amends, and then. “You should talk to him, Mrs. M. Honestly.”

Ellie finds herself nodding. “Oh, balls,” she says. “I suppose you’re right, not that you should feel smug about it. Do you know where he’s gone?”

“Lurking near the hearth,” Daisy supplies helpfully, and then. “Good luck! It’s a good job you’re the brave one. One of you has to be.”

“He’s brave in his own way,” Ellie says, more fondly than she means to. She stands, brushing at her dress. “Right. Doing this.”

Back in the kitchen, there is a little less bustling about, although Louisa is manning an assortment of pots and briskly chopping vegetables at the counter. Ellie ducks past her with a wave and finds Alec, as advertised, tucked against the corner of the hearth with his head in his hands. Ellie feels a complicated rush of emotions - affection, sorrow, hurt, some righteous indignation that edges toward rage, and a sickeningly warm feeling of care that takes root deep in her belly. Alec is so _stupid_ all the time, always ruining everything that is good for him. Ellie sighs deeply and pulls herself together, and then she says, “Oy, you.” 

Alec lifts his head, his expression hunted. “Ah,” he says lamely, trailing off. 

“You’re a bloody idiot,” Ellie says. Louisa’s knife stills and Ellie feels her curious gaze trained on them. She waves and says, “Just need a moment, here.” She grabs Alec by the arm and drags him into the pantry, shutting the door behind them. 

It’s very dark inside the pantry, the line of light around the edge of the door just enough to make out the edges of Alec’s form. Even so, Ellie can see that he’s tensed, ready to run. 

“Sit down,” Ellie says firmly, and Alec does, sudden and helpless, like all the air has gone out of him.

“Right,” Ellie says, a little wrong-footed. She hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “Right. What you did was wrong, and we need to agree that you will try very hard not to do it again if this is to continue, okay?” She lowers herself to the ground beside Alec, feeling the cool of the pantry wall at her back.

“God, I know,” Alec says quietly, miserably. “I’m so sorry. You were drinking, and I should’ve had more control of myself. I can’t believe I did it.”

“Oh god, _no_,” Ellie explodes. “Not that, that was bloody wonderful. I’m talking about the bit after it, when you had an absolute fit and shut me out this morning. _Alec._ You didn’t take advantage of me. I was very capable of consenting and I did so, enthusiastically. And besides.” She sighs shakily, reaching somewhere, she doesn’t know where, for courage. “It’s nothing I haven’t wanted for ages. Honestly. I wanted it so badly. Want,” she corrects herself. “I want this, want us, very badly, and I think that maybe underneath the panic you do too.”

“I’m not fit to be with someone,” Alec says, very quietly. “I want, of course I want, how could I not want you?” He laughs, soft and self-loathing. “But you deserve someone who isn’t broken.”

“Oh, Alec,” Ellie says quietly. “Don’t you know I’m broken too? Did it ever occur to you that our broken pieces might fit together and build something new? Something strong?” She snorts. “Didn’t know I was that bloody poetic, did you?”

“You’re my only friend,” Alec admits, barely above a whisper. “I can’t lose you, and I’m so terrified that I will destroy this.”

“Sweetheart,” Ellie says quietly, and she reaches out in the darkness, finding his hand. She squeezes it, and after a moment, Alec returns the pressure. “I think we deserve this.” She shifts a little closer, finding the solidity of Alec’s side. He leans into her, sighing, as Ellie continues. “Can’t we just agree to figure it out together? If it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t lose you as my friend. You’re too important.” 

Alec sighs again, heavy and full. Ellie feels it against her arm, marvels at the vitality and closeness of him. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“Of course not,” Ellie says honestly. “I’m completely terrified. But I think it could be really good, and I want to find out. I’m so tired of not finding out.”

“Me too,” Alec says quietly, and then amends, “I want this too.”

“Thank god,” Ellie says fervently, and then she finds the line of Alec’s fine jaw and kisses him, hard.

“Don’t just run away like that again, please,” Ellie says, half a gasp against Alec’s mouth. “If something upsets you, give us the chance to figure it out together.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, yes,” Alec pants out, between kisses. “I’ll try. It’s not easy for me, but I’ll try for you.” Well. That’s really bloody attractive, so Ellie clambers into Alec’s lap and snogs him like the world is ending. It might as well, so long as they can stay here forever. 

A sharp rap on the pantry door startles her, but Ellie can’t bring herself to pull away from the heat of Alec’s mouth. “Er, who is it?” She calls lamely. Alec snickers, and she smacks him gently on the thigh, stifling a laugh against his cheek. 

“There is a _wedding_ starting,” Louisa calls in, but she doesn’t sound too fussed about it. 

“Right, of course,” Ellie says, and tries to extricate herself from Alec’s lap, arms, mouth, and general unbearable sexiness. “A wedding, yes.” 

“I like this dress,” Alec whispers fervently, and his fingers catch on the swirly hem of it, so delicious against her thighs.

“I hate you,” Ellie whispers back. “You’re turning me on too much. We have to go sit with your daughter. We have to watch a wedding.”

“Oh, lord,” Alec says, panic in his voice. “Daisy. Oh, oh God.”

“It’s fine,” Ellie says, and manages to get herself stood up, brushing off the back of her dress. “She already knows. She sent me here, in fact.”

“Those girls are too smart for their own good,” Alec grumbles, accepting a hand up from Ellie as she pushes open the door. He looks hopelessly rumpled, and Ellie almost can’t bear how much she loves that. 

“Come on, love,” she says quietly, and Alec makes a short, sharp sound and pulls her in by the hand that he’s still holding, kissing her quick and hard. 

“Don’t stop saying that,” he says quietly, urgently. 

“We will be _late_,” Louisa cuts in. “Also your button is undone, sad man.”

Ellie can’t help the laugh that peals out of her, helpless with joy. “Right. Fix your buttons, Hardy. We’ve a wedding to go to.”

The wedding is probably very beautiful, but Ellie doesn’t remember anything about it except the fact the Alec is there with her, holding her hand.  
**

That evening, on the flight home, Ellie tucks herself into Alec’s side and rests her head on his shoulder while he dozes. Daisy and Chloe are in front of them again, snuggled together much the same, and Ellie feels so alive, so filled up with joyful possibilities. Ellie can’t wait to investigate them all, and she intends to drag Alec along with her. She glances down at him, sleeping sweet and easy, and thinks that he won’t mind that either, not one bit, not at all.


End file.
